He’s wearing Crocs to a country bar.Crocs in sports-mode.
Quickly, I drag my gaze from the abominations on his feet to his face.
The deep wrinkles on his forehead and around his beady eyes befit a man in his late forties. A large, raised mole sits to the right of his crooked nose. His patchy stubble seems like he can barely grow a beard and his thinning hair follows the same trend, but his wiry, bushy brows and untrimmed nose hair more than make up for it.
“Hey sweetheart, have we met before?” he says in Tally’s direction.
Did he find that awful pickup line in a player’s handbook from the seventies?
I wanna step in, but I know Tally and I know she’d want to handle the situation herself first. She’s not a damsel in distress. I don’t want her to think I see her as some fragile little thing who needs a man to defend her. That’s guaranteed to piss her off.
I’m here for backup if she wants it. Or needs it.
Tally gives the guy a once over. Her lips twist like she smelled something foul. “Nah, don’t know you.” She pulls her hat deeper into her face and rummages through her bag, indicating the end of their conversation.
Of course, the asshole doesn’t get the memo.
“Really, though, don’t I know you from somewhere? Maybe the TV?” he presses.
“Leaveus alone already! Shoo!” Erin bursts out and tosses a peanut at the man. He chuckles awkwardly as it hits his chest, but he doesn’t move away.
A muscle in Tally’s jaw flickers. It’s a tiny change most folks probably wouldn’t notice, but I know she’s used to suppressing her discomfort in public.
I push off the bar. That’s enough.
The guy rubs over his thin hair, smacking his frog-like lips as he stares at Tally’s back. “Could’ve been a billboard, too. Are you a model or a sing?—”
I clap a heavy hand on his shoulder. He startles, finally acknowledging my presence he’s tried so hard to ignore.
“The ladies ain’t interested in conversing with you, buddy. Think it’s time for you to go,” I say with passive-aggressive cheer.
He makes an annoyed noise. “And you are?”
“A laidback guy who can lean forward real quick if you give me a reason,” I growl.
How I’d love to slam his ugly mug into the counter. It could only be an improvement.
He grins, but it’s not a friendly expression. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving. But watch out. You haven’t seen the last of me. I’m like a boomerang…” He waves his hands through the air. “Whoosh…”
“You…what? Is that supposed to be a threat?” Holding back a laugh, I look at Tally. “Hey, is hethreateningme?”
She scoffs. “For his sake, I hope not.”
Like a defective waving wacky inflatable arm-flailing tube man, the freak stumbles backward, bumping into people. He stops by a young fella with a white cowboy hat and slips him something from his pocket. Then he waves at me one more time before slinking out the door.
Dave puts a glass of bourbon in front of Tally. “What afuckin’ weirdo. If Rust hadn’t told him to get lost, I woulda done it myself.”
“You seen him ‘round here before?” I ask.
Dave shakes his head, wiping his hands on a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “We get them city folks traveling through sometimes. They’re often a bit strange, but this one had my hackles rising since he came in. Before he talked to y’all, he was starin’ at the girls from the corner.”
“Just a run-of-the-mill, awkward creep trying to get laid,” Tally says and grabs the glass.
I got a good creep radar and this guy struck me as more than that. Then again, my emotions have been all messed up since I found the love of my life crashing on my sofa. I might’ve gotten a little overprotective.
Dave sighs. “I saw him handing a something to Trevor before he left. Sure hope he wasn’t dealin’ in here.”
“He gave something to the guy in the white hat? Want me to go check it out and talk to him?” I offer.
